Maturing with Music
by Bururu
Summary: Mathias needs to learn how to be serious. Antonio could do with some lessons on how to truly deal with, well, people. Arthur needs to lighten up, and Gilbert has to ease off of his troublemaking addiction. One afternoon in their college's café begins the journey to overcome their challenges. Finding that they all take solace in music, this strange quartet forms a band.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Not my first fanfiction, but probably the first that's going to be posted. College AU!**

"Bugger off!"

Mathias laughed boisterously from his hard, uncomfortable plastic seat in the lecture auditorium. He loved when things got spiced up. Life, in his opinion, was short and way too boring for most of the way. It was as bland as his one of his classmate's cooking.

Said English student, Arthur Kirkland, was currently trying to melt down into his seat, dirty blonde locks framing his face as his emerald eyes widened considerably, his face reddening from utter embarrassment as everyone turned to look at him. Shooting a quick glare towards the French student who had elicited the outburst from him (he was known for giving Arthur no peace), he returned his attention to continuing his notes.

The French student smirked at his success, then turned towards Mathias' direction. Damn, that laugh of his really was noticeable if someone from almost completely across the auditorium could pinpoint his location based on that alone.

The French boy gave a gracious wink towards Mathias, making said Danish student recoil in disgust. Francis Bonnefoy, college senior and always the flirt. Male, female, young, old, you name it, he'd try to seduce the living daylights out of it. He had been caught more than once at parties attempting to woo a cup or table, even a student's cat in his drunken state.

Francis' coy grin only grew at the negative reaction, before quickly jerking his head to flip his shoulder-length, glossy blond hair back. Mathias discreetly threw him the finger, in turn causing the flamboyant senior to gasp quietly before huffing and turning his attention back to the professor.

Snickering to himself in devilish delight, Mathias went back to his notes, only to notice that he must've tried taking notes for a pointless doodling art class that taught how to poorly draw guitars and drum sets. Crap, must've not been paying attention.

Trying to vaguely recall what his North American History professor had been droning on and on about for the past 50 minutes in a panic, Mathias pushed back all thoughts of promiscuous French boys out of his head.

"An-ton-i-o!" Francis sang smugly as he ran to catch up with the Spanish brunette. Antonio kept walking across the campus as if he hadn't heard him. _In fact, is he walking even faster?_ Francis thought as he hurriedly tried to get to the Spaniard's side. "Antonio. Antonio. Anton-io! You cannot escape from me!" Said brunette's back started to get smaller by the second as he increased his pace towards his dorm. "_Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo!_"

Finally just giving up seemed to be less annoying than hearing his name every time his heart beat to the usually cheery Spaniard. "Yes, what is it?" he sighed from over his shoulder as he paused to let his friend catch up.

"Why-huff-would you-huff-try to avoid me like that?" Francis gasped out as he finally ran to the Spaniard's side. He wasn't known for being the most athletic, in fact, he was often ridiculed at his decline of strength from his earlier years.

"I don't know, maybe because you tried to sexually harass little Lovi." Antonio replied flatly.

Lovino Vargas was a short tempered boy born and raised in the south of Italy. However, he had just recently applied to World Academy a while back, the famous international college accepting bright students from around the world. He used to be Antonio's dorm mate during his freshman year and Antonio's sophomore, but was moved after the first year to dorm with a German in the same year as him.

This was due to the students from the dorm rooms around them complaining they were tired of going to sleep with the sound of "DAMN TOMATO BASTARD!" ringing in their heads. He had just been recently moved again from his living arrangements with the German to just dorm with his brother that was raised by their grandfather in the north of Italy. A whole lot of students, even ones who were in different dorm buildings, immediately filed various complaints against Lovino and the German, Ludwig, for strings of screamed profanity that lasted even longer into the night. It's been a whole lot quieter lately ever since he was moved in with his brother, but most students by know had figured out that both Antonio and Lovino were into each other.

"I cannot believe you're still hung up about that! And besides, I was not harassing - little Lovino was just so… so cu-te…" Francis trailed off dreamily. Antonio promptly whacked him over the head. "What's wrong with you Francis? I thought you were my friend!"

"I am. Friends can get interested in their friends' friends, can't they?" Francis whined. "Unless… are you into little Lovino?" he inquired with an air of suggestiveness.

"I-ugh, of-of course not!" Antonio near yelled, as he opened up the door to his building. "Leave me alone, Francis!"

"Why, dear Antonio, this is my building too." Francis remarked innocently. Antonio groaned and continued to increase his pace, praying that God would have mercy on him and just let the pair get to his dorm already, where he would have time to himself. He got the lucky status of having no dorm mate, which meant less time trying to deal with another student and more time to finish that Biology essay that was due tomorrow.

"Ludwig will most likely make me be completely silent again. I mean, he doesn't even let me bring girls into the dorm!" Francis complained loudly. 'It's against the rules and you should acknowledge that before your raging hormones." He mocked, trying to create a poor imitation of Ludwig's thick German accent.

_Finally, thank you, God! _Antonio cheered inwardly as he caught sight of his door. "Look Francis, I'm sorry you got stuck with the most prudent guy in the school, but really, your hormones were only lightly described when he said 'raging." Antonio fumbled to get the key out of his turquoise uniform jacket as swiftly as he could, and jammed it into the his doorknob, giving it a strong flick of his wrist to unleash the relieving _click _into the air.

"It is not my hormones! It is simply love, my dear Spanish friend! _Love!_" Francis cried out dramatically, slamming one hand down on his chest while he positioned the other on his forehead.

"Okay Francis, that's very nice but goodbye!" Antonio rushed through his words as he opened and sped through his door like lightning, and thrust the door closed with all of his might.

"Oh my God. Dealing with him was as hard as learning how to play you." Antonio declared, aghast, to his favorite acoustic guitar, as he slid his back down the door before hitting the floor.


	2. It's A Good Day

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been in a combination of busy and lazy. So sorry… I've also spent my time writing non-fanfiction stuff and another oneshot. It's called "Promise Me", about North Italy remembering Holy Rome. If you want to see a little moment of Angry! Veneciano, check it out! **

** I'm watching a Hetalia seiyuu event on YouTube and my God, Chibitalia just did a frighteningly good imitation of Prussia. O.o **

**I just took a Hetalia quiz not too long ago and posted it on my profile page. Apparently I get a full 10/10 for France, trumping every other nation. O.O Oh and oui, I DO NOT OWN Hetalia, because if I did… I don't know. But I don't, so… I still don't know. /is feeling not creative for a second there/**

**Introducing the great **_**Prueßen!**_

Gilbert Beilschimdt first looked up, then down, to his right, to his left, before warily stepping out of the dorm. Quietly making his way towards the exit of the building, he snickered to himself. _I can't wait to see the look on that stupid Russian's face when he walks into the Government lecture tomorrow._

Truth be told, this wasn't the first time he had pranked his Russian classmate, Ivan Braginsky. And really, Ivan was one among many of the unlucky souls who fell victim to one of Gilbert's infamous foolproof practical jokes. Not one single time did his pranks fail. Well, that one time with the Austrian student didn't count, because seriously, he had _Elizaveta Hédérvary _on his side, and no one screws around with her. Unless they wanted to skip out on classes for the entire week because of major injury.

Elizaveta was Gilbert's childhood friend, and to be honest, he liked hanging out with her. Before she met that stuffy Austrian student and changed completely. After she began dating that aristocrat, it was like some alien took her place. No more going out in the woods, no more pranking people together and laughing at the looks of the victims' faces. Suddenly, she was interested in sewing and tidying up, in cooking and studying. She stopped eating anything with her hands unless it was some dainty little finger food. She changed so much, and Gilbert wanted it to end so they could go have some real fun together again.

However, he has been stuck pulling his pranks alone for quite awhile in World Academy. Sure, he'd have some good times teaming up with some French student but that was only sometimes, and he really missed Eliza's wild, adventurous side. He wasn't in love with her or anything, no way, hooking up with tons of different girls was much too fun to pass up. However, she was the German's good friend and he missed her.

Gilbert sighed as he opened up the door of the building. _My God, senior year and I'm already all sentimental. What's wrong with me? _

Something bumped into the albino boy as he started to walk into the dirt pathway. Gilbert riveted his body around, about to shout an insult towards the careless person, but froze at the person who too, paused and turned to face him.

"E-Eliza?" he managed to stammer out, astonished. "Why are you, I mean, what did this to yo-"

"Shut up!" she barked, tears streaming down her face. She reached a hand up to rub one of her glistening eyes, but to no avail. "Just- oh, I'm sorry!" she cried out, running towards the girl's dorm building.

"Wait! Eliza!" Gilbert started to move towards the dorm after her, but halting immediately before dashing abruptly in the other direction. _Holy shit- if Eliza's on her period again, Gilbird will be scraping me off the walls, floors, ceilings, EVERYWHERE. _

He continued on like that for about half an hour, just walking around the campus without a thought, before running into his "arch-nemesis", as Francis would joke sometimes. And it wasn't enemy, really, Gilbert would swear, he just wanted to kick the damn aristocrat in the balls sometimes. Okay, maybe a lot of times.

"Oi Roddy! Just the little boy I wanted to see!" The albino boy exclaimed cheerily. Said Austrian junior, Roderich Edelstein, turned to face him from his seat on a worn, brick red bench. He immediately turned his nose up and sniffed arrogantly before turning his head away. "Yes, what is it _Gilbert_?" He huffed, emphasizing on the albino's name as if it were one of his pretty little pastries gone horribly wrong.

Gilbert walked up to the Austrian before crouching down to stare him in the eye. He gave him a leer, then began his interrogation. "What'd you do?"

Roderich darted his gaze away from the young man in front of him. "I have no idea what you are talking about. You need to be more specific, simpleton."

"Oh? I was thinking of making that pretty little nose of yours bleed _all day today. _If you continue like this, I might even be able to fulfill my daydream!" Gilbert chirped merrily. He then lowered his voice in menace once more. "As I said, what'd you do? Alright, I'll even be specific. What did you do to make a certain Hungarian friend of mine bawl her eyes out?"

Roderich fidgeted for a few seconds, before taking great interest in his shoes. "_I _didn't do anything." He paused, stealing a glance at Gilbert's ruby eyes before continuing. "If I have to honestly say, _she _did something to _me_."

"Then tell me," Gilbert growled. "Why is she the one running to her dorm crying her eyes out, while you're the one lazing around on a bench, about as distressed as a corpse?"

"That's because-" Roderich sighed, before confessing. "She broke up with me."

Gilbert literally jumped three feet in the air- he was very athletic. He grabbed a bit at his snowy white hair before screeching out, "_You what?!_"

"I said, I just got dumped. She told me she would rather stay true to herself, that she didn't want to feel like she had to act differently because of some guy she was dating. I suppose she-" However, Roderich didn't get to complete his statement, seeing as a certain German was pointing a finger in his face, using the other one to clutch at his side due to the fact he was laughing so hard.

"Oh my God, that's freakin' _awesome_!" Gilbert was able to holler out after his laughing had died down. "Serves you right!" he shouted excitedly in the other boy's face before sprinting away to break the good news to Gilbird back at his dorm.

_ Although an uncivilized action, I have quite the strong urge to kick him in the balls. _Roderich thought, aggravated, as he watched the German's back disappear to the other side of the campus.

He broke the good news to Gilbird, who merely chirped furiously at him, irritated at being awoken from his nap in his owner's comfy pillow. Gilbert let him stay in his room to go back to sleep before bounding around happily all across the campus. Screw that Government quiz he had tomorrow, this mood was too AWESOME to put down!

Sometime during his time bounding around campus, (which really was just running and jumping and hooting) he bumped into yet another person- he was known to be quite careless, wasn't he?

He heard a chuckle and a noise of discontent after pulling away. He turned around to face the pair he had just run into, a broad grin immediately making it's way onto his face at seeing who it was.

"Francis! How've ya' been doin'?" he cried out energetically. "And Toni! How's it been goin'?"

"I'm fine, but you seem to be high in spirits as well." A smiling Francis replied with serenely.

"Yes, I've been okay. What's got you so hyped up at 11 am?" Antonio answered with an exhausted smile. Gilbert laughed, before suggesting, "It's a bit early for the bar, but do you want to go hang out at Hamburger Street for some coffee?"

"Alright," Francis chirped, Antonio looking as if he was to protest, before silently nodding his head in agreement.

Hamburger Street was the school's café, situated on the very edge of campus, run by two North American brothers. One was from the United States, whilst the other was raised in Canada. Apparently their mother was in the line of executive business and the CEO of some company, which meant 1. They were filthy rich and 2. One of them, Alfred, wanted to travel around their mother's homeland, America, with her on their mother's business trips.

He was born during one of his mother's business trips on American soil, therefore an American citizen, just like his mother. However, his older brother, Matthew, was born while she was in Canada to visit her boyfriend. Therefore, Matthew was a Canadian citizen, and was raised by his father there. Alfred insisted on traveling with his mother, so he was raised in America, growing up with the American way. He took up his mother's surname, his brother keeping their father's name. He got sent to a fancy private school in England during his high school years, before being accepted into World Academy. His Canadian brother chose to stay in Canada for his schooling, but finally decided to go along with his brother to World Academy. Together, they opened up the café, with funds from their mother and persuasion towards the school. Alfred insisted on calling the place "Hamburger Street", and served probably the best burgers anybody at World Academy had ever eaten. (Except for the Indian boy who refused to try them, although he looked tempted for a bit.)

The rest of the menu looked like a typical café menu, with little pastries, coffee, and different kinds of refreshing drinks. It was a popular place to go, the hang out spot on campus. (So much more people flooded towards the night clubs and the pub outside school grounds.)

"Maybe we should go ask dear Arthur if he would like to accompany us," Francis purred.

"MY VODKA! IT'S BEEN POURED DOWN THE DRAIN!"

"Nope, no time for that!" Gilbert yelped before grabbing his friends' arms and

running off towards Hamburger Street at a pace that would have made an Italian proud.

**A/N: Don't make an Italian proud by running away from the little blue button! (or purple, I suppose, for the colorblind) Reviews are better than love AND a good doujin! Wait, what am I saying?! GIVE ME DOUJINS AND AMOUR! AND REVIEWS! /crazy Hungarian yaoi fangirl heritage kicking in/**


	3. Escalating to Point

**A/N: I am so sorry. There are no words. **

"Look Mathias, if you're going to sulk, go sulk outside!" scolded Vash. The Swiss sophomore wasn't going to put up with his roommate's antics today, he had a North American History test tomorrow_, _and _dammit, _he needed peace to study in his own room.

"Noooooo." Mathias groaned from under his covers. "My 20 page essay is due tomorrow and I haven't started it yet. I don't know what to do, but I can't do it outside!" he moaned sorrowfully.

"You're not going to get it done under the covers either!" The young Swiss student snapped sharply. "Now get up, or so help me, I will drive back to _Switzerland _to get my damn rifle and shoot you in the head if that's what it'll take to get you to stop whining!"

"But Vashie, I'll _never _get my assignment done if you shoot my brain." Mathias commented miserably from his spot tangled up in the navy blue covers.

I guess that's how ten seconds later he found himself in the daisy bed under their window, blankets and all.

"Fine!" he shouted reproachfully up at the window. "I see how it is! I see!" The window slammed shut with such a force that Mathias actually had to wonder for a moment if his life would be in danger were he to return to that room.

He sighed, got up, and trudged towards the path that wound all around campus. He would wander, he supposed, until he got a brilliant idea for his paper. This was the method that usually saved him from failing and would get him a passing grade of either a C or B.

Blech. He needed a drink; too early for the bar. He'd see if he could bribe Alfred to get him some liquor at his café.

Arthur did a brief look-over of his pile of papers before hitting the bottoms of the papers quickly to even out the edges of the stack. Good. He finished that English Literature assignment 3 days before it was due- quite a close call, if he dare say.

He was the student chosen from England, and there was no doubt why. His family was rich at the top of the technology business, right up there with Apple and Microsoft. Avox Enterprises, that was his family's life. They hadn't gotten there with just kindness and luck, however. His father and mother have had to buy out companies, sabotage competitors, and ruin other's livelihoods. It's not that they were bad people, really, but they viewed it as what they did to survive. Strange really, how they could smile at him so merrily when they were with him, or give the men they saw living on the streets all the money in their wallets, but yet destroy thousands of people's lives, economic situations, and dreams.

Arthur himself had quite a few people still bitter towards him in this school. The student selected from India had hailed from a family that was one of the many whose company was all but controlled by Avox at one point. His mother was a major executive of a blossoming company. Eventually, they broke free of Avox's cold grip, but not without difficulties, and even now the company struggled some. That boy disliked him quite a bit, but wouldn't openly hold grudges. Then there was Wang Yao. He eventually became one of the professors at this school, but was still quite young in appearance. He was not fond of him whatsoever. His father was a co-CEO in another incorporation. It was involved in quite a messy situation with Avox at one point, even one of the possible heirs to the company, Kaoru, had to go train under Avox Enterprises after some serious sabotage on the Kirkland family's part.

Then there was Francis- Francis Bonnefoy. He was the son of the only rivaling company there was, based out of Paris- _Aux Cinemas. _It based itself mainly off home entertainment products, and was quite proficient in the field. Known for it's aesthetically pleasing designs, it gave Avox a run for its money in that particular branch of technology. Describing the relationship between Francis and Arthur wasn't exactly difficult: bad. However, due to many business meetings between the two families, they often spent time together as children. They were "childhood friends" but not exactly so, but there's still something to be said for that.

Tch. Arthur couldn't believe that Francis had to come to this place as well, yet it was slightly predictable, just as his own acceptance into this school was.

Arthur was the perfect student- each and every assignment was on time or early if allowed and was all stellar work. Perfection was the only word Arthur would let his teachers use to describe him, and if one of them used anything like "wonderful" or "proficient" you'd see him bump up everything- projects, extra credit, staying after school to study and assist the teachers. Perfection was key, and it didn't come from making friends or toiling away with popularity class.

Arthur smiled a little to himself as he got up from his desk chair. "I'm going out," he informed his roommate, Roderich. The Austrian turned up his head, peering at him over the lens of his glasses, staring at him for a few seconds. "If you must," he replied just as monotonously as his roommate, before returning to his laptop to continue his thesis.

Taking his crisp standard blue jacket, Arthur walked out the door without another word. His dorm was a house, really, on the outlying part of campus that was really part of the outside world. It was shared with Roderich, another student at the top of society- from some old Austrian noble family. Deciding that it would be a nice idea to go out to the café for a quick frappe, Arthur set out towards the main campus. All his assignments were finished, anyways.

Mathias played around with his straw of his watermelon smoothie. He took a large bite out of his burger, munching thoughtfully. Think. Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink. Save your skin here. What could he do for a main focus and details of his essay? Come on, there had to be something!

He plucked the straw off, tore away the plastic cover of the top of his drink, put the mixture to his lips, and gulped the entire thing down. The alcohol that was slipped into his order by request (and a bit of bribery) only put a slight buzz inside of him. It didn't help.

Looking around the café, it was all but empty. There was a cute, slightly mousey Taiwanese girl typing away on her pink laptop while occasionally sipping from a sweet berry iced tea, the condensation dripping down onto the surface of her laptop every so often. Hanging out by the counter was the Frenchie, that prankster German, and the weary Spanish kid. In the far corner, reading _The Good Earth_ while sipping away at a mocha frappe, was that English kid with a stick up his ass.

He looked from his current pathetic slouch at the counter by the window, to the mixture of people, before smiling devilishly.


	4. A Bar Fight, Sort Of?

**A/N: Hej~ Anyways, for those of you who don't know, **_**The Good Earth **_**is a classic historical fiction novel taking place in China a bit before the Opium Wars. (They used opium though, so trade was already existent.) It won its author, Pearl S. Buck, the Nobel Prize for Literature. I've read it- quite a fine book, indeed.**

**Also, just because I put people in dorms together does not mean that's the pairing! A word of warning to those FraGer fangirls who squealed in joy when they saw previous chapters. No official pairing has really been established yet but the Spamano that was hinted at before with the whole "Romano switching dorms faster than Veneciano runs to the call of 'Pasta!'" thing. **

**Also, October in the US of A is National Pasta month! SQUEAL~~**

**I apologize for the lack of Romano and many other characters. Eventually, EVENTUALLY, they'll show up. (Which means maybe soon or the far, far future. But eventually.)**

**I look at my story stats and the countries where some of my readers are coming from and I just go,"Wow. I feel... honored. And I'm going to go fangirl in this corner now." /goes to corner and dances around in happiness/**

**In Soviet Russia, you do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, Hetalia: Axis Powers… is not owned by either of us. **

**Yes, I just spent, like, 25-30 minutes going over and revising this author's note. You might not know it, but after my Soviet Russia comment, I had a whole bunch of different things written down THAT YOU WILL NEVER EVER SEE. /evil smile and maniacal laugh/**

* * *

Arthur sat in the semi-comfortable polyester chair, his mocha-frappe held in the hand that was not holding his book, the chill of the drink seeping through the cardboard sleeve that wrapped securely around the thin plastic of the cup. His book, which he had been reading for the past seven or so minutes, had drawn his interest to a moderate level; however, the occasional sip and burst of flavor from his beverage, combined with the motion of raising his arm every time he did so, distracted him from being entirely sucked into the printed text of the crisp pages.

He continued on into the story, his mind on the events in the novel at hand, when he felt the material of his uniform jacket bunch up at the nape of his neck. All he had for warning was a mirthful shout of "Watch out dudes!" before the bunch lifted him up from his seat, hung like that for a second or two, and then flung him across the café interior. He couldn't see where or who he was flying towards; all it was to him was a rush of colors, objects to the naked eye becoming distorted from speed.

* * *

"Watch out dudes!" was the cheerful yell that Antonio heard from behind his back. Gilbert and Francis turned their heads immediately, while Antonio just kept facing forward, drinking up his strawberry milkshake, not seeing the reason in partaking in such useless tomfoolery. His two friends by his sides yelped as their eyes widened and they scrambled away. That was when something large crashed into the Spaniard's back, causing him to choke on his milkshake. The force of the impact caused both him and the body on his back to slide over the counter in an instant, flipping over at the opposite end before landing on their backs.

Francis and Gilbert looked at the other worriedly before dashing towards their friend. They leaped over the countertop to assist their friend and the poor soul that was used as a projectile weapon, but alas, Antonio's milkshake had crashed along with him and was bleeding out it's thick, pale pink substance all over the floor. Upon touching down on this floor, Francis and Gilbert instantaneously slipped, the German crashing down on his side, with his French companion face planting on the sticky puddle of milkshake.

Mathias hooted with laughter from where he stood, having to place a hand on Arthur's former seat to steady himself from his intense laugh session. He turned towards the Taiwanese girl, his hooting reduced to mischievous giggles as he stared at her, already plotting how to tangle her up in the mess. However, under his gaze, the girl, who had already backed up into the window, squeaked in terror before smashing her laptop closed, hugging it to her chest, and bolting out the door. Her forgotten sweet berry iced tea stood lonesome, its only company being the girl's crumpled up napkin.

Mathias walked up to the iced tea and took a sip of it. He deemed it acceptable and continued to gulp it down through the pearly white straw as he turned around to look over to the groaning pile of bodies.

"Oh dear God, what in all blazes happened?" Arthur moaned as he removed himself from being suffocated under Antonio. After standing back up, he spotted the trio around him. "You three!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes. "What did you seek from me this time, you gits? A good laugh? What childishness." He sniffed, raising his nose up in disdain.

Gilbert got up from the sticky floor, his shirt and jacket soaked in pink fluids. He gave Francis a hand, which he accepted, before turning to help Antonio, however, the Spaniard had already risen from his sticky spot on the floor. Upon hearing Arthur's accusation, the albino bristled.

"Oi, bastard! If you think we caused this shitty mess then you're damn wrong, dickhead!" he snarled, grabbing the front of the English boy's now pink shirt. Arthur continued to glare at him furiously. "You needn't be so coarse in your language, uncivilized pig," he replied icily.

"Why you little fu-" Gilbert began to growl viciously, but was interrupted by Francis. "I know Arthur can be a stubborn, idiotic little _rosbif, _but you shouldn't let it bother you," he ground out to Gilbert, ocean eyes narrowing. "And Arthur," he chastised. "You should really open your eyes and ears and look at the laughing Dane right over there," he snapped irritably. "And you both are acting like complete idiots and that annoying Danish boy is slurping loudly and _goddammit my hair is ruined and I'll have to spend a good thirty minutes _just_ conditioning to return it to its former beauty!" _he screamed at the lot of them.

They heard a merry chortle behind them. "Okay guys, that was priceless!" Mathias grinned at them airily, but was met with dark glares. And a murderous leer from Francis. Mathias walked carelessly towards them until he spotted the look he was receiving from the French student, and faltered uncertainly. "Uhhh…" he nervously managed, an uncertain smile still stuck on his face. Francis began to slowly advance to him.

"_Do…you…know…how….much…I have… to work… on this fabulous hair?" _he growled furiously.

"'Kay bros, this was fun and all, but Vashie is calling for me…" Mathias trailed off nervously, edging towards the door. "_Liar… come and play with big brother…" _Francis coaxed with dangerous undertones.

"No! No! I hear him now! I HEAR HIM!" Mathias screeched helplessly, dropping the cup of iced tea in his hand to crash on the floor, making a break for the door. However, Francis clutched onto the back of the troublemaking young man with an iron grip. Mathias thrashed wildly in Francis' hold, but unable to break free. "_NOOOO! DON'T HURT ME!" _he squealed. "Conditioner isn't cheap,"Francis stated mercilessly. "You'll have to pay for this glorious mane. In_ blood._" With this condemning judgment, the usually weaker French pretty-boy hurled the Dane through the window with surprising strength, effectively shattering the glass of the window. Mathias lay helplessly on the pavement of the sidewalk.

He blinked, and blinked again. With each one, his vision got fuzzier, and his eyelids dropped lifelessly, succumbing to the darkness of unconsciousness.

"Oh my God," Gilbert gasped in horror. "Francis, my man, did you _kill him?"_

* * *

Mathias stirred, his vision of blackness shaking. He heard five different voices with various accents: One English, one Spanish, one French, and two German.

"He's dead, good going Francis! I can't hide from the cops _again!"_

"Quiet, Gilbert. He's not dead. Wankers. Why did you have to become so violent, frog?"

"Can I go to my own dorm now…?"

"I cannot help but protect my beauty like a mother protects her baby, _cher_."

"Shit, shut up guys! The bastard's waking up!"

"_Bruder, _why do you need to use Francis' and my dorm?"

"Ohhh…." Mathias groaned painfully. "My head… what the hell…?" He shot open his eyes, and snapped up from his lying position on the unfamiliar bed. He sent his eyes glancing wildly around the room: Antonio, Arthur, Francis, Gilbert, and a tall blonde student standing beside them. It was a usual World Academy dorm, with posters of French singers littering the walls, until it was as if an invisible line cut across an exact half of the room to give way to the neat blue walls of the dorm, with one perfectly aligned portrait of the seashore framed neatly hanging by the wrought iron and glass desk. The other desk was on the less freakishly organized but still fairly clean side of the room, a tan wooden desk, way over the "fancy" line and a bit old fashioned and large, with multiple drawers. Papers were scattered on the desk and on top of it all was a flyer from the campus' church. A dark steel crucifix was hung up on this side of the room, a rosary hanging simply but elegantly from the same nail from which the crucifix was supported by.

"Okay, three questions: What happened? Whose dorm is this? And who's the Catholic? Or Protestant? Or…whatever?" Mathias asked steadily.

"You were knocked out by Francis after he went rage-Frenchie and so we felt guilty-" Gilbert started. "I didn't feel guilty," Francis intercepted. "Anyways," Gilbert carried on enthusiastically. "We, save Francis, felt some level of guilt so we decided to bring you back to Francis and my brother Luddy's dorm." He finished, throwing an arm around the unknown blonde's neck. "This is quite tiring _bruder._ My proper name is Ludwig." The stoic blonde said, apparently not amused.

"So, for my last question, who's-" Mathias started up again. Francis and Antonio raised their hands swiftly. "Catholic," Francis and Antonio chorused. "But what you're seeing is my stuff," Francis informed him, tossing back his hair, which had recovered it's glossy sheen. Which reminded Mathias of something.

"How long have I been out?" he chirped. "Five hours." Antonio answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh," he said. A silence went around the room. "Now what?" Mathias said from his awkward place on the bed. "What happens," Ludwig griped angrily, but still with controlled tones. "Is you all owe me a favor from keeping me from writing my Physics paper."

"Yes, yes." Francis sighed dramatically. "What is it that you want us to do now, Ludwig?" The blonde German sent an irritated look Francis' way before continuing. "Clean out my Dutch friend's garage this Friday at noon. He already graduated and lives near campus; I owe him one anyway. It's full of old junk from this music shop he used to run, he told me he wants to get it cleaned out anyways." Antonio shot up his head and cried out in protest, "But I usually go to the park with my guitar Friday mornings!"

"Then just bring your guitar there. He won't mind." Ludwig answered. "Now out!" he shouted crossly. Everybody followed suit, and quite quickly if he must say. Francis went over to his desk and began organizing papers, chuckling lightly to himself. "Hope they all have fun on Friday."

Ludwig shot him an amused look. "What do you mean 'they'? You're going too."

"But why?" Francis whined, his head shooting up to give his roommate a miserable expression.

"You're the one who threw him through the damn window." Ludwig answered, taking out his laptop to begin his paper. "Impressive," he muttered.

Francis smirked arrogantly down at his various papers and handouts. "_Merci beaucoup."_

* * *

Alfred F. Jones whistled as he came out of his back rooms from his break to study and finish up his assignments, his Canadian brother walking quietly alongside him, tying his red apron back up. Upon walking into the café, they halted immediately. Matthew could only stare at the scene in horror: broken window, spilled milkshake, various objects on the counter toppled over, a plastic cup of iced tea toppled over near the entrance, its insides already all over the entrance area, and above all, a large, ragged absence of glass in the floor-to-ceiling window. Broken glass was scattered all over the floor. There were minimal amounts of blood on the sidewalk outside. Overwhelmed with shock and at a complete loss for words, the American dropped down to his jean-clad knees.

"_WHAT HAPPENED?!"_


	5. Ça C'est Vraiment Toi

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait you guys! Here it is, their first song! I wish I could show you how it sounds but its only up to you if you want to follow the link at the bottom to listen to it. Enjoy~**

**Mon petit imbecile=My little imbecile**

**Vierge=virgin**

**Collège=What the French call middle school, for ages 11-15**

* * *

"Damn you all." Mathias griped. Currently, the dusty old box in his hands was giving him quite the struggle. Damn that stupid curb he had to drop this goddamn heavy box at and damn the stupid garage it was stuck in because it was too motherfu- um, goshdarn heavy to carry. He threw the box to the floor of the garage, causing everything inside it to band together and make an awkward, out of place mixture of jingles and clanks.

"May I remind you that you arrived two hours late?" Francis commented nonchalantly from his task of sorting out what the Dutch man, Morgens, could keep to sell in a yard sale and what was too hopelessly broken to salvage.

Mathias let out a noise of distaste and proceeded to defend himself. "Come on bro, I was only, like one and three quarters of an hour late. Fifty minutes, give or take."

Arthur could only roll his eyes. Morons. He would go through physical strain if that was what was required to keep moving forward, but this? This was just him paying for someone else's tomfoolery. Why should he receive punishment? He's the one who was thrown across a café. And worst of all, that idiotic Dane had been the one to put everyone through this much grief (and the frog, but he was always at the root of Arthur's problems anyways), and he had been able to get away with missing out on almost half the labor! At this point, Arthur Kirkland, heir of Avox Enterprises and the grand, esteemed Kirkland family, was completely and utterly pissed off.

"You two should just silence yourselves and continue on with your work!" he snapped at the both of them. Mathias just rolled his eyes in frustration while the usually suave Francis bristled at the order and stood up from his kneeling. Nobody ordered him around outside of the bed!

"Always need to boss people around, _mon petit cretin_. Maybe you need to start topping for once. Or rather, actually get laid." Franics sneered at him. Mathias chuckled and Antonio and Gilbert, who were sorting right beside Francis on the dirty cement floor of the garage, couldn't help but laugh quietly as well.

"You're your own cock block, _vierge_." He finished, stooping back down to rummage around the boxes again. By now Gilbert couldn't help but hoot with laughter. "Oh man Francey, burnnnn!" he cried out between his chortles.

Arthur's face flushed with anger before he began his rebuttle. "Well, guess what frog!" he clenched his fists at his sides. "At least I wasn't the moron that got us here!" he screamed.

"'Excuse me cher, that would be him." Francis jammed his thumb towards Mathias, who opened his mouth to protest then hung his head in shame at Antonio and Gilbert's glares. "And anyways," Francis continued, his voice of velvet dangerously quiet. He walked over to Arthur and grabbed his chin to force him to look up at him-he was taller, a fact that he reveled in in his childhood. Arthur struggled, but Francis grabbed onto his arm as well, holding him into place. "You're just some spoiled brat who's throwing a tantrum because he doesn't like sharing the burden of the group. " His cerulean eyes were dark and gazed with fury down upon Arthur, who was still trying to wiggle out of the French boy's grip. Francis released him and took two steps back. "Now let's finish this so we won't be burdened with another's presence any longer."

Arthur shook his head in anger before making his way to the far corner of the garage and unhappily going through the boxes of old sheet music and folders there. Mathias ducked his head down as he went over to the pile of old instruments and tried to examine what was broken and what was not. "Awkward," he muttered to himself.

And then he realized how big this pile of junk was. "Francis, Gilbert, Antonio. Kinda need your help over here."

The trio got up after stacking the last boxes of salvageable products and joined Mathias at the ceiling-high pile of instruments. The Dane chanced a glance towards Arthur's direction. The stuffy English student was already done putting what ripped up or generally trashed music there was in the rubbish and was just finishing up putting the good folders and music in a neat pile on the floor. This colossal pile facing them was the only one left then.

All that Gilbert could see however was a mountain of awesomeness. He swiped an electric guitar and started to swing it around like crazy. "Guys look at this I'm an awesome rock star because I'm just that awesome!" he shrieked.

Antonio sighed and sat down against the wall. He really wanted to play his guitar in the park today but because of the _people _he surrounded himself with- or rather, who barged in and surrounded _him_- he had to lose one of his favorite times to clean out a garage. He had brought his guitar, hoping to be able to finish quickly and head for the park, but at the rate they were going at he'd be frozen by the autumn evening.

Francis gently picked up an old microphone and its stand with interest as he admired it. "Look at that," he mumbled. "Top condition. I remember this model, it was one of our greatest sellers."

Mathias couldn't help but be tempted. Oh so tempted. Because revealed from under the microphone and guitar was a drum set and _good God,_ it was a beauty. Complete but not overly accessorized, it was perfect. He couldn't help it. Dragging it out of the pile in mere seconds, he giggled like that Hungarian student when she looked at her camera's pictures.

"Dudes! Dudes! We should like totally do a song together!" he squealed eagerly.

"When did you turn into Feliks?" Francis asked. He and the Polish boy were good friends actually, and would meet up to talk about the latest fashion trends once in a while.

"Shut up!" Mathias snapped, before continuing on. "But guys, we should like, seriously do a song! You all do know how to play an instrument, right?"

"Yes," Antonio answered morosely, looking at the instruments everyone had. "But count me out. I don't do these kinds of songs."

"Well, I do know how to sing. I was trained professionally by the best of Paris." Francis said proudly. "And I did take lessons on how to play guitars when I was little awesome me." Gilbert followed.

"Let's do something then!" Mathias cried. "Arthur!" he called. "Wanna join in?"

Arthur jerked a bit at the sound of his name. Currently, he was just arranging his pile this way and that to avoid facing those idiots, but now that he was called there was no way around it. Joy.

"No," he retorted. "I only play classical, ruffians."

"He is lying," Francis said. "The little punk took lessons for electric guitar when he was in _collège._" Mathias eyes widened.

"OMFG, are you serious?! Stick up the ass here actually was a punk rocker?!" he screamed, almost as if in horror.

Arthur huffed and quickly made Mathias come back from the land of crippling shock. "Yes, and I'm not proud of it, but I'm quite finished with the entire phase anyways. I was immature at that time." He clarified, walking over from his spot in the corner.

"Oh, but one song wouldn't hurt would it? Please?" Mathias begged. "No," Arthur said firmly. "Please?" Mathias whimpered. "Pleaaaaase?"

He thought it over for a moment, before finally sighing and giving in. "Only because I want to get out of this whole 'physical labor' state." He glared at them all, save Antonio. He had some respect for the Spaniard, who was smart enough at least not to participate in this madness.

"Oh _merci, cher!" _Francis replied giddily, as he went to adjusting his microphone. Mathias checked out his drums while Gilbert began to set up his guitar masterfully at lightning speeds. Arthur grabbed a guitar out of the pile and began to set his up as well. It had a worn Union Jack as the design, in comparison to Gilbert's, which was white, save for a black eagle and an obsidian crown design on the front.

In about ten minutes they were ready. "So guys…." Gilbert began. "… what should we play?"

Silence.

"Oh wait! I know this _très super cool_ song!" Francis exclaimed excitedly. "It's called '_Ça c'est vraiment toi!" _

"Speak English, asshole." Arthur droned. Francis sent a smirk in his direction. "Becoming a bit like your old rebel with the guitar in your hands, hmm _cher_?" Arthur blushed before grinding out, "Just shut up and explain your stupid song."

"Fine. In English, it is known as '_That is really you.' _It's performed by a band called _Téléphone." _

Immediately a cry of recognition went through the group, except for Toni, who was longingly looking at his guitar. They still needed to finish cleaning the rest of that pile, but of course these people think about singing a pretty little song first.

"Oh yeah, I know that song!" Gilbert told them. "So do I… unfortunately." Arthur informed. "Yeah yeah, I remember that one pretty good!" Mathias concluded.

"Then if we all know it, how about we just jump into it?" Francis suggested. "Wait, no warm-ups?" Mathias asked. "_Non, _I know at least I'm above that." Francis answered confidently. He motioned for them to start. "Let's go!"

They did about thirty minutes of warm-ups after that.

"Okay," Francis declared, with a nod from the rest of the group. "_Now_ we are ready."

With a single motion, as one body, they dived headfirst into the music.

* * *

**A/N: The song they played, the version I intend to have them sing is the French-English combined one. It was on a FrUs AMV, but apparently the only lyrics I can get from the Internet is the completely French version. But I don't want that version. So just copy and paste into your browser: watch?v=alVz9z98EMU**


End file.
